Read Online Sour Grapes (A Savannah Reid Mystery #6) by G. A. McKevett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: G. A. McKevett
Ads: Link
she still had a daunting, deliberate stride as she patrolled the room like a Coast Guard
cruiser--everyone snapping to attention in her wake.
"Eh, she's not so bad," Savannah said. "It takes a tough old bird like her to run a gig like this. And it looks like she's doing a good job. Everything's going smoothly."
"So far, so good," Ryan agreed. "Time to do the rounds?"
Savannah nodded. "I'll mill around the room here," she said. "Then I'll check the upstairs hall of the guesthouse."
"I'll go back to the gallery, make sure nobody's trying to crash the party, and then I'll walk the lower hall."
Ryan disappeared, and Savannah slowly circled the room, acquainting herself with all the new faces. And pretty faces they were, too.
She had to admit that the big sister in her was coming
to fore as she sized up each of the contestants. She couldn't help comparing them to her own baby sister. She also couldn't fight the abiding conviction that the
kid had them all beat--hands down.
The vast variety of pulchritude was interesting: fresh
2VILL1t7Jal
faced sweeties, model types with gaunt, chiseled features, and a few girls who appeared to have become women before their time, their eyes reflecting a bit too much worldly knowledge for their young ages.
Savannah recognized a few guests as socially prominent
San Carmelitans, whom she had dealt with on other occasions. Catherine WhitestoneVilla was sitting at the head table next to a handsome, silver-haired gentleman. From the way she was hanging on his arm and gazing at him adoringly, Savannah surmised this was Catherine's beloved husband, Anthony, the wannabe state senator. He appeared less comfortable with the social scene than his effervescent wife. He had a slightly "hunted" look, as though he would much prefer to be somewhere far away from the formal, stuffy crowd.
Strange, for someone seekingpublic office, Savannah mused. He'd better get used to it.
A number of people clustered around the head
table, clamoring for the Villas' attention, but they seemed more interested in the quiet conversation they
were sharing with each other.
It was only when Mrs. Lippincott strode over to their table that Anthony disengaged himself from Catherine
and stood, shaking Marion's hand vigorously.
She pointed to the podium on the slightly elevated, temporary stage that had been assembled at the far end
of the room. Anthony Villa nodded his approval and shook her hand again.
Savannah smiled to herself. Yes, she could definitely take some lessons on People Management and Manipulation
from the formidable Mrs. Lippincott. Even the seemingly shy Anthony Villa was eager to do her bidding.
As
an army of waiters and waitresses dressed in stiffly
kJ it Urn/1r r...0 01
starched black-and-white uniforms invaded the room, Savannah decided to take her leave. She hadn't been invited to join the guests for dinner, so what was the point of tormenting herself? She'd score something in the kitchen after hours. . . and what the heck, she'd get a double portion of dessert to reward herself for delayed
gratification.
When Savannah reached the top of the guesthouse
stairs and looked down the hallway, she was surprised the difference thirty minutes could make. Half an hour ago, on her last round, the floor had been teeming with tittering teenagers, racing up and down the corridor in all stages of dress and undress, rollers in their hair, curling irons in their hands.
Now the hall was empty--its silence almost eerie.
She strolled along the passageway, her pumps making no sound as she stepped on the carpet that was
nearly as plush as that of the tasting room, only this rug bore a classic pattern--a green trellis on a background of antique gold with grape leaves bordering both edges.
The walls were covered with the same wainscoting of
old oak, while the upper half was stucco-textured in old-world mission style. The ceilings here were also open-beamed, and at the end of the hail
cruiser--everyone snapping to attention in her wake.
"Eh, she's not so bad," Savannah said. "It takes a tough old bird like her to run a gig like this. And it looks like she's doing a good job. Everything's going smoothly."
"So far, so good," Ryan agreed. "Time to do the rounds?"
Savannah nodded. "I'll mill around the room here," she said. "Then I'll check the upstairs hall of the guesthouse."
"I'll go back to the gallery, make sure nobody's trying to crash the party, and then I'll walk the lower hall."
Ryan disappeared, and Savannah slowly circled the room, acquainting herself with all the new faces. And pretty faces they were, too.
She had to admit that the big sister in her was coming
to fore as she sized up each of the contestants. She couldn't help comparing them to her own baby sister. She also couldn't fight the abiding conviction that the
kid had them all beat--hands down.
The vast variety of pulchritude was interesting: fresh
2VILL1t7Jal
faced sweeties, model types with gaunt, chiseled features, and a few girls who appeared to have become women before their time, their eyes reflecting a bit too much worldly knowledge for their young ages.
Savannah recognized a few guests as socially prominent
San Carmelitans, whom she had dealt with on other occasions. Catherine WhitestoneVilla was sitting at the head table next to a handsome, silver-haired gentleman. From the way she was hanging on his arm and gazing at him adoringly, Savannah surmised this was Catherine's beloved husband, Anthony, the wannabe state senator. He appeared less comfortable with the social scene than his effervescent wife. He had a slightly "hunted" look, as though he would much prefer to be somewhere far away from the formal, stuffy crowd.
Strange, for someone seekingpublic office, Savannah mused. He'd better get used to it.
A number of people clustered around the head
table, clamoring for the Villas' attention, but they seemed more interested in the quiet conversation they
were sharing with each other.
It was only when Mrs. Lippincott strode over to their table that Anthony disengaged himself from Catherine
and stood, shaking Marion's hand vigorously.
She pointed to the podium on the slightly elevated, temporary stage that had been assembled at the far end
of the room. Anthony Villa nodded his approval and shook her hand again.
Savannah smiled to herself. Yes, she could definitely take some lessons on People Management and Manipulation
from the formidable Mrs. Lippincott. Even the seemingly shy Anthony Villa was eager to do her bidding.
As
an army of waiters and waitresses dressed in stiffly
kJ it Urn/1r r...0 01
starched black-and-white uniforms invaded the room, Savannah decided to take her leave. She hadn't been invited to join the guests for dinner, so what was the point of tormenting herself? She'd score something in the kitchen after hours. . . and what the heck, she'd get a double portion of dessert to reward herself for delayed
gratification.
When Savannah reached the top of the guesthouse
stairs and looked down the hallway, she was surprised the difference thirty minutes could make. Half an hour ago, on her last round, the floor had been teeming with tittering teenagers, racing up and down the corridor in all stages of dress and undress, rollers in their hair, curling irons in their hands.
Now the hall was empty--its silence almost eerie.
She strolled along the passageway, her pumps making no sound as she stepped on the carpet that was
nearly as plush as that of the tasting room, only this rug bore a classic pattern--a green trellis on a background of antique gold with grape leaves bordering both edges.
The walls were covered with the same wainscoting of
old oak, while the upper half was stucco-textured in old-world mission style. The ceilings here were also open-beamed, and at the end of the hail
Similar Books
![The High Queen's Vow [The Mystic Women of The Realm Series Book IV]](/res/dh/book4.jpg)
